


i wanna make you move with confidence

by actualflower



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotionally-Stunted Hawke, Exasperated Varric and Isabela, F/F, First Date, Fluff, Generally Excited Merrill, Interrupting Slavers, The Misuse of Cloaks as Emotional Shields
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualflower/pseuds/actualflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke wants to go on a date with Merrill. Naturally, the aggressive older Hawke sibling goes about this the only way she knows how: as subtly as a mabari.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wanna make you move with confidence

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who was really inspired by [a certain writer's block from writeworld?](http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/108472806045/writers-block-artists-tumblr-a-picture-says-a) Warning for cloaks and grandiose gestures and emotionally-stunted aggressive Hawke because, well, she's a brute. She's doing the best she can, honest. Title from "Talk is Cheap" by Chet Faker.

"By the Maker, Hawke," Varric says, eyeing her up and down, "This has bad romance novel written all over it. You know how I know? I write them for a living."

"Scoot, Varric." Lethili Hawke pushes past him and into his room in the Hanged Man. She tugs down the hood of the black cloak pulled around her and unclasps the little Amell crest that pins it to her shoulder. Flinging the fabric onto the nearest chair, she reveals a bundle that was tucked under an arm. "We've got a mission."

Varric eyes her again, a bemused smirk on his lips. "This is the first time a mission has included midnight visits in black cloaks. Not that I'm complaining, of course, faithful friend that I am, but." He moves to sit on the chair closest to the fireplace, rests his hands on his knees, and tents his fingers. "Now, what kind of shenanigans are we embroiled in now?"

Hawke scrubs her fingers through her short hair, letting the slightly greasy strands fall into place. She considers the bundle of black fabric in her hands before throwing it onto the table. A muffled click of metal-on-metal sounds from inside the cloths. "We..." She shifts onto one foot, then another. "I need to.." She tries again. Shit. She can't find the words to explain what needs to be done. She grabs a chair from the table, flips it so the back is facing Varric and the fire, and straddles it.

Not a good sign, Varric notes, and rests his hands in his lap as he leans back in his armchair. "Hawke." The stressed note on her face only grows, her brows drawing closer together and her lips a firm line of frustration. "What is going on?"

The toe of her boot worries at the floor where a board is loose. Her teeth worry at her chapped bottom lip. A fingernail worries at a line in the wood of the chair. She is worrying, and she is _never_ a worrier. She is also about as delicate as a mabari in an antique shop (and as subtle, too), so it only takes Varric a few moments to realize why she's shown up at his door at Maker-knows what time in the morning. The fact that she keeps twisting the little engraved wooden ring around her finger helps, too.

Varric shifts, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and propping his head in his hand. Subtlety is wasted on Hawke, so straight to the point it is. "This is about Merrill, isn't it."

Hawke's face shifts into a mask of shock, but quickly blanks. "How did you know." It's not a question, and yet it is all the same.

"You don't get by as long as I have without learning how to read people," he yawns out in a long sigh. Plus, Hawke's about as easy to read as a newspaper. That's what you get for being a gruff anti-hero, he supposes. She glares at him. He expects nothing less. He quirks an eyebrow at the table. "Now that that's settled -- " he motions to the bundle, "what's with the wardrobe change? It's like you raided Broody's closets." He chuckles, then stops. "You didn't actually raid Fenris's closets, did you? Does he even have closets in that old mansion?"

Hawke stands abrubtly, scraping the chair forward and striding to the table, She rolls the bundle out carefully, separating the fabric into, what else, three other cloaks. Three small pins, all bearing the Amell crest, lay on each one. Varric hops off the chair and strolls over. Hawke picks up a cloak -- the shortest one on the table -- and a matching pin and shoves it at him. "You'll need this."

"You still haven't quite told me what we're doing here, Hawke."

"We're going to see Merrill. Where is Isabela?" She grabs another cloak-and-pin set and rushes out the door without letting Varric respond. He sighs, and swings the cloak over his shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawke takes point, naturally. Her, Isabela, and Varric are all walking towards the elven alienage wearing the ridiculous cloaks Hawke demanded they wear. They pass by several things in the Kirkwall night: a mugging, two probable robberies, a small band of thugs, a band of drunken singers, and several people passed out in the street (or, at least, hopefully passed out). Not one gives a second glance to the trio in black, which is just as well.

"Hawke, are you sure this is going to work?" Isabela give her a sidelong glance as they near the vhenadal and Merrill's door. "Not that I wouldn't be wooed by a roguish figure coming to my door in the dead of night and sweeping me off my feet." 

"It'll work." is all she says. There's a last cloak tucked under her arm, and she retrieves it as she knocks on Merrill's door.

A beat, two, and the door swings open and Merrill is standing there, clutching a dagger quite obviously behind her back. Her hair is mussed from sleep and she's only wearing a shift. The relief from her is palpable when she realizes who is under the cloaks at her doorstep. "Hawke? Isabela? Varric?" She steps back, letting them shuffle in.

"Get dressed." Hawke, brusque as ever, proffers the cloak to Merrill. Varric sighs.

"Don't worry, Daisy." He glances at Hawke, who is still holding out the cloak to a slightly confused and blushing Merrill. "She just wants to go for a walk out on the Wounded Coast." He thinks for a moment and adds, "I'd also bring your staff. Y'know, in the interest of preparedness and all that." He grins one of his dazzling smiles at her, and she relaxes a touch. She thanks Hawke for the cloak and scurries to her bedroom. 

She appears moments later, fully armored and wearing the cloak with the Amell crest on her shoulder. Just barely, Varric sees Hawke soften at the sight. Isabela nudges the dwarf. "Someone likes seeing their lover claimed," she whispers. Varric chuckles and follows Hawke and Merrill out of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Because peace has never been a part of their lives, and simply because, well, it's Hawke, their nighttime walk on the shores of the Wounded Coast are interrupted by a band of slavers who never got the memo that Hawke & Co. are untouchable. Their loss, really. Isabela spots them first, pulling Varric closer to her as they watch the pair in front of them struggle to flirt. "We've got a slight problem-" is as far as she gets before the first archer's arrow flies into the sand at Merrill's feet.

The look on Hawke's face could only be described as murderous. Hawke draws the dual blades from her back, a wicked pair of matching daggers that gleam with poison, and pounces onto the nearest slaver, dragging her blades across their throat in a single vicious swipe. The rest of the skirmish goes similarly, with Hawke cutting a red swathe through the path and leaving the rest of them to catch up. She executes the mage accompanying them with a stab to the heart, twisting the blade and pulling it out as they fall to the ground. Her cloak is sandy and bloody, and she wipes off her prized daggers on it before sheathing them.

Merrill's pupil's are blown wide, still hyper from the adrenaline of the fight. "This was ex-ci-ting! We should have these walks more often!" She's smiling, Varric notices, directly at Hawke, who suddenly blushes bright enough to redden her dark skin.

"Y-yeah. That'd be... nice." Hawke rubs at the back of her neck, and Isabela and Varric sigh in unison. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They escort Merrill back to her small hovel, and she gives Hawke a kiss on the cheek at the door in goodbye. Hawke gently grabs her chin and guides Merrill's mouth to her own, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. Varric can hear a quiet, breathless goodbye leave Hawke's mouth and suddenly, it's just Isabela, Varric, and her in the seasonably-warm nighttime weather.

"Well." Isabela says, crossing her arms under her chest. "That went well." Hawke grunts an affirmation. Isabela sighs. "Now, if you don't mind, there's a pint at the Hanged Man that's calling to me." She makes a grand show of pecking Varric's cheek with a kiss and wrapping Hawke in a tight hug before sauntering off, cloak still intact and barely even looking ruffled.

Varric starts toward the Hanged Man himself, but Hawke grabs his arm to stop him. "Varric." He quirks an eyebrow at her, letting her collect her thoughts. "Thank you. For tonight." It's a lot for Hawke to say and really _mean_ it, and he recognizes that.

Varric smiles at her, a rare, quiet smile he reserves for special occasions. "No problem, lady killer." He looks at her. "Go home. Get some sleep." Hawke nods tersely, once, and lets his arm go. He watches her leave the little clearing, her cloak tattered and ripped and blood-spattered and sandy. She pops the hood up as she leaves, and it adds the slightest swagger to her step.

Oh. That's why they had the cloaks, then. Varric chuckles and pulls up the hood of his own cloak, a satisfied grin on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> In regards to the ring Hawke fiddles with - yes, it is the sylvanwood ring. I might've flubbed a little canon there and decided "Hey, let's have Merrill give the ring to Hawke like a favor to wear!" Overall, this might be slightly OOC in some parts, but considering that I finished writing it at 1 AM and it is unbeta'd and it's still really sort-of adorable, I think it can be forgiven. <3
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Please leave a comment, kudos, or bookmark if you enjoyed it. <3


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